


Bunker Cat

by wintercas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Kittens, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintercas/pseuds/wintercas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas brings a cat back to the bunker. Dean swears he hates it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bunker Cat

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Kayla, who is the best ideas guy and an awesome muse.

            Castiel pauses outside the bunker door to watch the snowfall.

            The bundle under his coat rustles a little.

            “Hold on, we’re almost home.”

            He readjusts the lump and pulls open the bunker door.

 

            “About time! You get the food?”

            Cas looks up as Dean enters the library. “Yes, I got the food. Do we have a cardboard box? And some towels?”

            Dean, who had been pawing through the paper sack, stops dead. “Why?”

            At that point, the bundle decides to wiggle beneath Cas’ leather coat.

            “Cas. What’s under your jacket?” Dean says darkly, not moving.

            Cas begins to pull the bundle out from under his jacket. “I know you’re going to say no, but—”

            “Is that a  _cat_?”

            The little black kitten, now nestled in Cas’ hands, shivers slightly.

            “Cas. No.”

            “Dean, I found him by the road, all by himself, and it’s snowing and—”

            Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “No animals in the bunker!”

            Cas sets his jaw and holds the kitten a little closer to his chest. “Yes.”

            Dean drops his hand. “What?”

            “Yes, animals in the bunker.”

            Sam appears in the doorway. “Food?”

            “Cas brought a freakin’ cat into the bunker!” Dean says angrily.

            Sam smiles and walks up to the kitten, reaching down to pet it. “It’s adorable! What’s its name?”

            “Sam! We are not keeping—”

            “His name is Charlemagne,” Cas says to Sam, resolutely ignoring Dean.

 

            There’s a knock on Cas’ door.

            “Hey,” Dean says.

            “Hello, Dean,” Cas says, readjusting the blankets in Charlemagne’s box.

            Dean sits down on the floor next to Cas, resting his back against the foot of the bed. “You’re not still grumpy with me, are you?”

            Cas picks Charlemagne up out of the box. “Do you want to hold him?”

            Dean gives the cat a weird look. “He’s not gonna pee on me, is he?”

            “I doubt it, Dean.”

            “If I hold him, will you stop being mad at me?”

            Cas pushes the wiggling kitten into Dean’s hands.

            Dean grumbles a little bit, but then begins stroking the top of Charlemagne’s head. “He’s not so bad, I guess.”

            Cas reaches over to scratch Charlemagne’s ears, nudging Dean’s fingers.

            “Are you really gonna call him  _Charlemagne_?”

 

            Somehow, a cat toy appears in Cas’ room that following week. Dean insists he found it in a gas station, and to just leave it alone already.

 

            “Cas, get your fucking cat out of the kitchen while I’m cooking!”

            Cas enters the kitchen to find Charlemagne dancing along the edge of the counter, and Dean staring at him warily.

            “He’s gonna fall. Or something.”

            “I believe you misunderstand how agile cats are, Dean,” Cas says, picking Charlemagne off the counter and setting him on the floor to scurry off into the other room.

            “Yeah, well, he’s kind of a little guy, so…”

            Dean pushes the burgers around the pan and glances up at Cas.

            “Quit looking at me like that!”

 

            The next week, Cas finds Dean on the sofa with Charlemagne, playing with the toy.

            Dean continues to insist he does not like the cat.

 

            “Dean.”          

            There’s a grumble, and a rustling of sheets, and the bedside table is clicked on.

            “Dean. Can I sleep here tonight?”

            Squinting in the sudden light, Dean is slow to respond. “Why?”

            “Charlemagne is sleeping in my bed.”

            “So put him in the little box.”

            After Cas doesn’t respond, Dean rubs his eyes and flops back onto the pillows.

            “Sorry. That was a stupid suggestion. You’re such a softie.”

            “I am not!”

            Dean rolls his eyes and pulls back the covers on the other side of the bed.

 

            “Cas, wake up.”

            Dean shakes his shoulder, and Cas shuts his eyes tighter.

            “Cas!”

            “Let me sleep!” Cas grumbles, burying himself deeper in blankets that smell like Dean.

            Dean chuckles a little, and suddenly Cas is very cold and he opens his eyes to see Dean standing above him, holding all the blankets.

            “Give those back!”

            “It’s noon, dude, time to get up!”

            Cas groans and presses his face into the pillow.

            “Get up!” Dean says, crawling back onto the bed and poking Cas in the ribs.

            “That tickles! Go away! Give me my blankets!”

            “You’re ticklish, huh?”

            Cas’ eyes fly open. “Dean, no!” But the words hardly come out, because Cas is doubled over in laughter, squirming away from Dean.

            “What’s going on in here?”

            They fall off the edge of the bed, both still laughing.

            Sam stands in the doorway, looking amused.

            “Cas wouldn’t wake up,” Dean pants, rubbing his chest where Cas landed on him.

            “Why was Cas sleeping in your room?”

            “The cat was in his bed.”

            Sam makes a small noise with his mouth and disappears.

            “It really was!” Dean shouts after him.

 

            “I don’t get it.”

            “I’m not surprised,” Dean says.

            Cas scoots closer to Dean on the couch. “Why are they talking about explosives? I thought they were making soap.”

            Dean throws his arm over the back of the couch. “Yeah, they’re doing that too.”

            Cas slumps into Dean’s side and groans.

            Dean sighs. “You want to watch a different movie?”

            “No, if this is what you want to watch…” Cas wiggles closer, under Dean’s arm, and rests his head on Dean’s shoulder.

            “Fight Club is probably too complicated for you,” Dean says, absently running his fingers through Cas’ hair.

            “We could watch Captain America again.”

            “You’ve seen that five times.” Charlemagne hops into Dean’s lap and shoves his head under Dean’s free hand.

            “I like that movie.”

            They sit in silence for a few more minutes, and then Dean moves to change the movie, upsetting Charlemagne and sending him running off to the library.

            “Thank you, Dean.”

            “Yeah, yeah. Big baby.” Dean settles back onto the couch and Castiel nestles into his side again.

            “You’re a lot like Steve Rogers,” Cas says after a while.

            “What?” Dean says, laughing.

            Cas looks up at him. “You’re a lot like Steve Rogers. I like that.”

            “Thanks, Cas.” Dean looks uncomfortable, so Cas kisses him on the cheek.

            “You’re much more than you think you are, Dean,” he sighs, looking back at the screen. Dean sits frozen for a while.

            And then Dean moves. “Get back here,” he says, grabbing Cas’ face and pulling him into a real kiss. 


End file.
